


Warming on the Lawn

by Alliswell



Series: Sunsets on the Grass Universe [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced past molestation (Not Everlark), Older Man/Younger Woman, Outtakes, Peeta’s pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliswell/pseuds/Alliswell
Summary: Outtakes and revisited Scenes on the Sunsets on the Grass universe, from Peeta’s POV.This being a companion to one of my WiPs, with references and dialogue from the main story, it will be best if you’re already familiar with Sunsets on the Grass before reading this work...sorry for the inconvenience.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Series: Sunsets on the Grass Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009266
Comments: 43
Kudos: 70





	1. Target

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JHsgf82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHsgf82/gifts).



> This is a work of Fanfiction.
> 
> I do not own The Hunger Games or it’s characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene corresponds to Chapter 7: Dear Catnip, of Sunsets on the Grass, with Peeta’s own perspective and background story.

  
It’s a bright, sunny Thursday, and since things at the bakery were slow today, I decided to ‘seize the day’ and leave earlier than usual!

Actually, that’s not strictly true.

I don’t mind working. In fact, I’ve been known to come into work on my off days.

The honest truth is that the Mellark women have converged in the bakery today for their rare shift at the shop, and I rather have a root canal procedure done, than endure an afternoon with my mother and my brothers’ wives, ganging up on me about my love life, or rather, lack there of one.

They insist I’m in dire need of a woman. I disagree. Emphatically!

I cook my own meals, I do my own laundry, clean after myself, and have all the room I could ever want to be as particular and loud, or quiet, as I feel like being. Also— not that this concerns my female relations— I possess a good pair of hands and high speed internet for those evenings when I need a little more _TLC_ …which I self apply very satisfactorily, thank you very much!

In other words, I’m self reliant, and completely capable of taking care of myself!

But as of late, Delly and Clove have been getting increasingly nosy and unbearably meddling for my taste. Clove specially keeps offering to set me up on dates with her single friends, despite me telling her repeatedly that I’m not interested.

They can’t believe I’m enjoying my solitude; learning to hear my inner self, and doing some self healing.

They also can’t— or won’t— understand that I don’t believe in trash talking Cashmere, which all Mellark women (and my brother, Rye) truly enjoy.

I just don’t see how cussing my ex-wife out can help me heal from my failed marriage...I rather pretend my _vampiric worst half_ was a pleasant co-passenger in our matrimonial wreck, and leave it at that. 

Clove was in raw form today, though. She asked, no less than five times, if she could set me up with her friend, Enobaria. She took offense at my repeated ‘no, thank you’s and muttered that I was being unnecessarily stubborn about it under her breath, loud enough everyone could hear her, including me. Worse yet was my mother’s snide-y, little remarks about my bleak future as a confirmed bachelor without a family to mourn me when I die of loneliness... 

I just couldn’t cope with it any longer. The relentless questioning and general dismissal of my feelings on the matter got to me, so I left; but now that I have the afternoon off, I’m not sure what to do with myself.

I could get a haircut, but I’m feeling too grouchy for that. Plus, Cashmere was the one who insisted I kept it trim short, a d since she’s not my wife anymore, I think I’m gonna let grow out again!

I could go home and catch up on naps, Lordy knows I’m getting up in years and my body is not as energetic as it used to be, but it is a pretty nice day out, and I’d hate to waste it sleeping. On the same token, I could do yard work, but I’ve been paying this neighbor kid to mow my lawn every two weeks...I’d hate to take away his income by doing his job myself.

_Fuck Clove and her dates!_

At least she’s marginally better than my mother— I truly don’t even wanna think about my mother. That sure will ruin my day completely.

_Fuck my mother and her terrible, terrible dystopian visions of my future._

I think I’m just gonna go home and grill me a big steak dinner out in my beautiful patio I never get to enjoy. I’ll pair my supper with that nice bottle of 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon, Cashmere dropped $200 for and never opened… _oh yeah! She was pissed off we didn’t have one of them corkscrew things._

I laugh evilly to myself, sobering up right away, because how hypocritical of me to try and act all magnanimous in front of my sisters and mother about my ex, but mocking her with relish in my private thoughts.

Well…there’s a Target up at the Merchant Pavilion two lights ahead. Better go get myself a corkscrew if I plan on drinking that expensive wine with supper tonight!

Walking around the pristine store, I can’t stop mentally complaining about how unnaturally bright the fluorescent lights are overhead. The smell of the in-store Starbucks at the entrance is also annoying me for whatever reason _…I miss my little bakery_. The coffee there doesn’t smell all syrupy sweet, and _where the hell is this popcorn smell coming from?!?!_

I grab the first corkscrew I find in the kitchen aisle, and meander besides the shelves, looking at all the other doohickeys neatly displayed along the wall. I grab an avocado slicer, just because I’d like to say I own one.

I put the avocado slicer back in its spot, thinking of what Clove could make of that? I can already hear her selling me off to all her friends: “ _Oh, haven’t you heard? My pitiful, unmarried, brother-in-law just bought a brand new avocado slicer! He’s such a proper gentleman!_ ”

Delly would giggle and add: “ _You couldn’t possibly pass up a man with such a useful gadget, why he’s as prepared as a secret spy_!”

Then my mother would snort and roll her eyes: “ _A waste of cash if you ask me_!”

I grab the slicer again, and shove it into the shopping basket hanging from my arm, exclusively out of spite of my mother’s imaginary comment. 

_I should ban the wives from coming to the bakery!_

I’m still lost in thought, stewing on my own misery, when I start wandering down the aisles, without a particular destination in mind. _I’m pretty sure my father and brothers would agree with me about banning their wives from the bakery, seeing as they make themselves scarce when their women come in to tend the shop once a month._

I sniffled out the smell of popcorn from my nose, like it’ll make any difference. The aroma is burn into the thin skin of my nostrils already... _do they like, spray the store in popcorn air freshener?_

My brain vaguely registers that I’ve entered the electronics aisle, which I really need nothing from, but the books section is just past the phone and tablet accessory aisle, so I stay my course…my mind chooses to suddenly focus on what’s ahead, and the rest of my body stops abruptly, in surprise.

All this time I’ve been wandering the store, while my eyes watch without really seeing, so it’s a bit of a shock when my consciousness kicks in to show what my incorrigible male gaze found so interesting. My brain caught up with my eyes, and I have to blink at the miles and miles of fine, shapely, toned legs, disappearing under a snug fitting green skirt, hugging an hourglass body…

_That has to be the tiniest waist I’ve ever seen!_

I want to stop staring at the poor, unsuspecting woman, but my gaze is a little snagged in the cascade of soft looking, dark hair; shinier than silver and diamonds. This lady could easily make shampoo commercials.

…and then, as if to torture me for looking so greedily, the woman bends down at her waist and all I can see is _Ass_! The most perfectly round, firm looking _ass_.

My mouth waters, which makes me shudder in embarrassment.

_What the hell is wrong with me? Lusting after a stranger in the middle of a chain store!_

I’m disgusted with myself!

I'm in worse shape than I thought if I’m getting this worked after admiring a pair of legs and a bubble butt. I groan internally. If Clove and Delly could see me right now, they would never let me live this humiliation down.

Finally, finally, I manage to tear my eyes from the lady’s derrière, which is why I miss the moment the poor thing loses her balance and falls forward.

I rush to her aid when I see her frantically shoving battery packages back on the little pegs of the stand. She looks so miserable and embarrassed, despite the fact that her face is completely obscured by her long hair.

“I’ll help you, ma’am!” I tell her as chivalrous as I can sound, after spending the last 2 minutes checking out her ass.

“I’m okay!” She calls shakily, still trying to clean up the mess.

“Nonsense. It’ll be my pleasure to assist a beautiful—“ The mystery beauty decides to finally turn her face towards me, and I choke on my words, because the rump I've been admiring all this time belongs to none other than Hunter Everdeen’s daughter...

_Well fuck!_ There’s a special place in hell, just for me now.

I’m pretty sure I’m going into cardiac arrest, and all I can articulate is a garble of her name. “Katniss?” All the batteries I’d picked up are on the floor again, and I’m not sure how or when that happened.

“You okay, Mr. Peeta?” Katniss Everdeen asks, squeezing my arm; her stunning gray eyes — _when did her eyes become stunning???_ — shift between mine, concerned.

“What?” I’m still reeling.

“Hi, my name is Greg, and I’m a manager, here at Target, do y’all need any assistance?” I look at the skinning, pale man that just appear out of thin air, like he’s just sprouted a second head. I’m not quite sure what to think right now, but the arrival of Greg, the Target manager, it’s such a Godsend, I could kiss him!

“Sure, Greg! It seems we made a spill, and we’re having a bit of trouble picking it up on our own.”

“Of course, of course. Not to worry sir, I’ll get right to it!”

“We can help!” Katniss steps forward, looking ashamed and guilty.

“No, no, ma’am! That’s not necessary, please, enjoy your shopping experience while I take of these for you,”

Katniss insists one more time, and Greg— Lord bless him!— declines politely again, so I just thank the man, and corral Katniss away, since I’ve regained some of my composure back.

_Damnit, I need to stop walking behind her!_

Also, _I need to call Clove…tell her she can set me up in whatever dates she wants._

“Are you alright?” Katniss asks peering up at me with quizzical eyes.

I nod, but I can’t bring myself to look her in the face for too long, for fear she’ll see all the depravity lurking in my head.

“I’m fine. Why… why do you ask? Are, you?” I chance a glance at her to make sure, “Okay, I mean. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She sighs, and somehow manages to look so innocent and sweet, I can’t help but hating myself, “It’s just this darned shoes are giving me major restless leg syndrome,” she motions down to her feet, “and I really wish I could kick them off.”

My eyes, obedient as a pair of lap dogs, follow the path her hand pointed at, and fuck...she’s fine! Gorgeous, really!

_Wait, what?!_

_Did I just call Hunter’s little girl gorgeous?_

_The fuck is wrong with me?!_

I shake my head, kicking myself for thinking such a thing, and breathe deeply.

She gives me a shaky smile, “I’m just not used to them, high heels.”

_Huh, she’s wearing lipstick_...My mind goes blank for a second, but she starts frowning and I clear up my throat. I can’t help taking a quick peek at her shoes, remembering the amazing way her calves looked from behind... “That’s nice…” _shit! I didn’t just say that out loud! Quick, fix it!_ “The shoes are nice.” _Stop it!_ “That’s not right…” _No, you idiot!_ “I meant, I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable, but, um, they look nice on you.” _No, no, no, no, no!_ “The shoes. Like, uh… I mean, you look nice— Not, nice—“ _Shut your fucking mouth… NOW!_

“I don’t look nice?” She doesn’t sound as much insecure or self conscious as she does puzzled, and the way she’s frowning at me, like I’m not making sense, has me flustered and stuttering.

“Yeah…no.” _ABORT!_ “I mean, you do look nice...not just nice…but, different.” _No more coltish knobby knees_ , my stupid brain supplies, thankfully, my mouth has the good sense to swallow up those words at least.

“Oh,” her shoulders sag a little. “Is it a bad different?” Now she sounds self conscious.

“No!” I cry out, “Not at all! You look gorge— _grown_ — GREAT!” _Fuck, fuck fuck!_ “Pretty.” _Don’t say that!_ “I mean, pretty... nice.” _No! Bad Peeta! Very bad Peeta!_ I groan internally, hanging my head low in embarrassment, “Let me start again,” I exhale. Force myself to look at her again, and give her what I hope looks like an apologetic smile. “You look very nice.” _Better_ … _now, keep going and stop being a pervy fuck_! “What’s the occasion, if you don’t mind me asking?”

So much for not being a pervy fuck!

Luckily, she doesn’t seem perturbed by my questionable behavior and smiles, giving me a long winded explanation about Mayor Undersee trying to get his daughter interested in politics since she’s 18 now, and since Katniss herself is also 18, the Undersee girl roped her into going along to get register to vote and whatnot...

_18..._ I knew she was that old, but now I’m _aware_ of her age...uncomfortably so.

_It’s okay!_ _I’m just a little susceptible because of Clove and Dells meddling._ I shouldn’t worry myself too much about Katniss looking so much like a woman in her grown up outfit. She’s a cute kid and was bound to mature sooner or later...I know deep inside, she’s that same little tomboy with the twin braids, covered in lure guts. Tomorrow, when she’s back in her usual cargo pants, combat boots, and form fitting graphic T-shirts, I’ll be able to laugh at myself for my absurd reaction. 

I do my best to pay attention to her story. Is a great thing, really, ‘cause the longer she talks, the more I can see her expressions, her eye rolls and mannerisms; it all blessedly reminds me she’s still her young, innocent self, and knowing that helps me center myself and regain control over my crazy thoughts…

_Goddamnit!_

Katniss fishes something out of her buggy, and all my progress goes out the window when she holds aloft an orange bathing suit for my perusal.

“It ain’t quite sunset orange…” she shrugged, her straight, shiny, upper teeth caught on her lower lip briefly, “but it will do.”

I couldn’t quite breathe, “Sunset orange?” I had to harrumph to get the words out…Dante’s Inferno…that’s where I am right now, right?!

“You said it was your favorite color…” Yup, most definitely Dante’s Inferno, I can’t quite remember which level torture this is though, “not that I really got it because of it...” Oh…I’m not sure why that disappoints me so much, but it does. I’m very much going to hell! “Grandma E always said that bathing suits had to be a color that would clash loudly against the color of the water, so people can spot ya from anywhere, just in case. This one seemed like a pretty good option,”

Shit…

She’s smiling at me while playing with the ends of her loose hair.

Shit…talk you moron! She’s staring now!!!

“Huh… I’ve never thought of that before.” Sure as fuck you haven’t, sick bastard!

“Yeah… well, I feel like I’m the only one still following the advice.” She chuckles.

She’s not flirting with you! Get a grip!

“Well, I’ll start getting bright colored trunks for now on.”

She grins and I take a minute to think up what else to say.

“I didn’t recognize you.” I groan inwardly, all that thinking and that’s what comes out of my mouth? “Not until I saw your eyes. I’m sorry if I frightened you.” At least I can say that with all honesty.

“You didn’t scare me! I recognized you as soon as you spoke. I was embarrassed for being a spast.” She looks embarrassed.

I’m about to say something to reassure her, but Primrose appears out of the blue and barrels into her sister like a scared kitten.

“Primrose Azure! What in tarnation is your deal?” Katniss scowls.

Primrose grabs on to her big sister and starts a rapid fire squeaking, that has me flip onto alert mode, “Katniss! There was a man... some creep! He was looking at me, but Mr. Finnick grabbed him by the scruff... and I think he’s gonna kill him!”

Oh no!

“What?!” Katniss screeches.

Gotta find Finnick before he actually does murder someone!

“Stay here! I’ll sort this out!” I call over my shoulder as soon as I drop my basket into the girls’ buggy, hoping I’m not too late to keep my best friend from doing something he can’t come back from…If he thinks he’s found a predator, he won’t easily let go until he’s inflicted some serious damage, and I can’t allow that to happen. Finn has a baby who needs him now. I need to remind him of that!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did y’all think about this? Should I keep writing this outtakes/scenes? There’s one outtake in particular I’m working on, that will be completely original to this work, and kind of integral for the main story... but it won’t spoil either one if skipped. 
> 
> This revisited scenes might come out of order too, but that’s not written in stone. I’ll make sure to put a note to let you know what chapter of the main story each entry corresponds to, so y’all know! 😊


	2. The Pontoon Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter corresponds to Ch. 8 of SotG: ‘Love Sandwich’. And then some.
> 
> This chapter is more serious in tone than the first one. It’s also longer.
> 
>  **Warnings:** *Tags have updated* Mention of both Annie’s and Finnick’s (partial) background traumas. The last part (conversation between P and F) Might be triggering. **Vague reference Assault/Molestation** , Read with caution.

I’m not much for water activities; ever since I was boy, I’ve known my body wasn’t built for buoyancy. My bones are too dense and heavy to stay afloat for long, but if my best friend invites me to join him and the Everdeens on a boat ride, then I put on my hardly used swimming trunks and go on a boat ride.

As usual, I spent the night before the trip baking treats, because Finnick has a horrendous habit of eating garbage, and not only that, but he feeds that poison to anyone around him. I try not to give him too much of a hard time about it, since this tendency of eating like a raccoon comes from a deeply rooted trauma from his dark teens, but I do try to give him a healthier option when I can. Deep down, I know he appreciates my effort, I just wished he’d watch his junky snack intake more carefully.

I get to Finn and Annie’s place before the Everdeens, which allows me a few minutes to get myself mentally prepared to climb into the pontoon without looking like a total nervous wreck. I’m not a very good swimmer. I suck at it, probably because when I was around 6, my oldest brother, Bran, pushed me into the deep end of a pool while wrapped into a heavy towel; my mother had to jump in and pull me out. Then— sweet lady that my mother is— she started screaming at me for not getting myself out of the water and make her ruin her perm.

That sort of shit leaves a bad taste in a child’s mouth for life.

Anyway, I’m too old to care if people think it’s weird I can’t swim well. Theoretically, I still enjoy the beach and boat rides, and as long as I don’t have to submerge past my navel, I’m okay going into bodies of water for short spurts of time.

…except, for some reason, I don’t want the Everdeens to think less of me ‘cause I’m not as comfortable in the lake as they are. It’s stupid, really; Hunter and his family are the nicest people I know. They would never judge anyone for lack of an ability and I know for a fact, Miss K would offer to teach me to swim without blinking an eye. The kid is part otter I think.

The Everdeens arrive at last, and my stomach gets a little queasy. _We’re really getting into Lake Cuatro then._

“Alright everyone! Welcome to Captain Finnick’s awesome adventures!” Crows Finn with an exaggerated flourish, “before we sail away in this wonderfully, sunny day, let me give you a rundown on pontooning rules and tubing safety measures—“

 _Safety measures_ …It suddenly occurs to me I have no idea if Finnick has enough lifesavers in this contraption!

_What if we capsize in the middle of the lake?! What if the water proves to be deeper than we think?_

I busy myself checking the compartment under the seats, counting all the life vests, making sure even Junior has one just in case. I miss Finnick’s rules on riding the donut, but I'm not one for water sports as I said before, so I collapse on a bench and wait unfit everyone to piled into the boat.

Hunter brings a cooler on board; I'm sure Lily brought fruits and water. She usually does, as an alternative to Finnick’s bad influence in the snacking department.

Annie sits by me. She’s perhaps a worse nervous wreck than I am, for completely different reasons. Bless her heart.

Finnick turns on the motor, and pushes off the dock, and I grab onto the rail next to me for dear life. Hunter notices of course… _nothing escapes that guy!_

Annie gasps, and I turn to check on her.

“Is Junior asleep?” She asks, almost frantically.

Primrose is holding the boy, with great care, while Junior’s mop of bronze curls peek over her shoulder.

“He just nodded off!” Prim smiles. “Must be a sailor thing, being so at ease in the water. He’s adorable!”

“I’ll take him!”

“Oh, I don’t mind holding him, Ms. Annie,” says Primrose, smiling sweetly, but Annie is already out of her seat and plucking the child out of her arms.

“I appreciate you very much, Primrose, but Junior is a bit heavy. You may get too tired, and if Finnick guns the pontoon too fast and we hit wake, you might lose your grip on him. It’s best if I hold him for now.”

Primrose makes a face, but Lily leans over, and starts whispering into her ear. I have no idea what Lily told her teenage daughter, but Primrose sits back and shrugs noncommittal.

Everyone knows Annie is a little… _delicate_ ; but not many people know her story.

I only know parts, and try not to ask much more than what Finn shares, but I know Annie grew up in California; she was an amazing swimmer on track to making Team USA for the Olympics, but she had the misfortune to witness a shark attack in a public beach. The victim drowned while her and a couple of lifeguards tried to help. Annie was so traumatized afterwards, she became mentally unbalanced. I’m not quite sure how she ended up in New Orleans a few years later, but that’s where Finnick met her, while sitting in the waiting room of their therapist.

Finn says that love finds you in the strangest places. He says he wasn’t looking to fall in love with anyone at his therapist’s office: “I didn’t love Annie right away. She snuck up on me,”. And then, when he came to North Carolina, she followed.

It’s obvious to anyone watching, they love each other deeply, and it’s extra obvious— at least to me— that love heals many wounds; after all, Annie agreeing to live so close to the lake is her second greatest leap in her mental recovery; the first one, was having Finnick Jr.

I can only hope things keep getting better for them, they deserve it.

As Annie predicted, Finnick guns the accelerator to the max and the whole vessel kicks up into the air, just to hit back down against the still surface of the lake like a bellyflop; it feels almost like hitting solid rock beneath until the water gives way and the motor cuts through.

I clench my grip on the smooth railing of the pontoon with one hand, and white-knuckle the cushion of bench I sit on with the other. The Everdeen girls are giggling, enjoying the ride, while I almost had an anxiety attack.

“Here!” Hunter hands me a beer from his cooler with a kind smile, “To dull the edge.” Quickly, as if not to call attention to my mini freak out, he passes a drink to his wife and another to Annie.

The girls are still giggling and talking in hushed tones, sharing a sprite and some chips, until Finnick tries to corrupt them with a freaking _MoonPie_.

“I brought homemade cookies, profiteroles and cheesy bites,” I inform the boat at large, eying Finnick suspiciously, yet still unsettled with the boat’s motion.

Finnick rolls his eyes. “Of course you did,” he squints, “although we all know the cheesy bites are specially made for one person only in this boat,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I counter feeling warmth flood my face. I know Miss K is very partial to cheesy treats, but I didn’t make them _exclusively_ for her, “The cheesy bites are for everyone!” My voice sounds a little high pitched for some reason.

“Aha…meanwhile, everybody watch out for piranha teeth when you reach out for the cheesy bites. You don’t wanna lose a finger over a snack, and mark my words, certain critters won’t recognize friend from foe when cheesy bites are involved, ain’t that right Wild Thing?”

_Goddamnit, Finnick!_

Poor miss K looks like she wants to melt into her bench.

I have to admit, she looks kinda cute with her eyes bulging out and her cheeks rosy pink— _Don’t thinking shit like that!_

I still wanna strangle Finnick! He’s just dangling the stupid MoonPie in front of the girls, mocking me. I hate it when he gets in that taunting mood.

Finnick stops the boat at some remote embankment, and declares it safe for swimming. Both girls jump out of their seats, racing each other to dive out of the boat, meanwhile I’m trying to decide how I want to handle this swimming business…I’m not _totally_ inept when it comes to swimming, I can doggy paddle when the occasion calls for it; I’m just not very confident and get spooked easily in the water… _thanks Mother, thanks Bran._

Lily calls Primrose to get a coat of sunscreen on, and I turn in their direction unintentionally.

_Shit!_

Katniss is pulling her shorts down her tanned legs...and again, it looks like there are miles and miles of them, going on forever...

_Shit, shit, shit!_

I almost sever my neck from my spine, turning my head away too fast. I start to hyperventilate. _Fuck, it’s Target all over again!_

I hear Katniss’ taunting, “Bah-bye, loser!” Then comes a loud splash from the front of the pontoon.

“Hey! Not fair! Mama held me back!” Complains Prim, shooting up from where she kneels in front of her mother, to get slathered in sunblock.

Primrose jumps off the boat and all I can hear is more giggling and splashing from below.  
  
Onboard, Hunter and Lily are getting ready to join their daughters in the water, folding their clothing and applying sunscreen on themselves.

Finnick sits next to Annie, “You want me to hold Junior while you swim?”

“No, I’m alright,” she demures, tightening her hold around the sleeping boy.

“Babe, Junior will be fine. Go on, take a lap and I’ll be here watching over him.”

Hunter touches my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Sorry!” He says quickly raising his hands in a placating motion. Then, points to the water, “Wanna join us?”

“Um…Actually,” I look at all of them, “Finn, if you and Annie like to swim together for a little bit, I can stay here and watch over Junior.” I’ve babysat for them before.

Well, it was more like, Annie had a doctor’s appointment and they couldn’t bring the boy, so I came and watched him out of necessity, but still. It should count, right?!

If they could trust me with their son to go to the doctor, they can surely do it now, that we will be only a few feet away!

“I— I don’t know…” Annie murmurs against Finnick Junior’s forehead. “What if he wakes up and tries to follow us into the lake? The water is too deep for him,”

Finnick shakes his head, and starts reassuring his wife, but I start sweating profusely, bouncing one leg, anxiously, “How deep is _deep_ for y’all?”

Hunter leans forward, “It’s only a handful of feet deep. I’m sure we could touch the bottom of the lake with our toes if we put our minds to it.” He sounds so kind, I manage to cool down a little.

“Really, it’s not a big deal, I can stay onboard with Junior while you guys swim,” I say.

Annie shakes her head once more, but before she can say anything, the pontoon kind of wiggles a tiny bit, and off the side, from the ladder opening, pops a head of matted dark hair, that could only belong to Katniss, as she pulls herself up on to the deck.

Hunter, who was standing next to me, turns sideways and I get an unobstructed view of the girl, and fuckety-fuck! Everything goes quiet in my ears. I stop breathing for a second and develop some kind of tunnel vision, concentrated only on the rivulets of lake water caressing Katniss’ tanned limbs as they descend from her crown of wet hair, all the way to her dainty feet.

“Hey, Catkin, it’s the water nice?” Hunter greets her joyfully.

The girl beams brightly, jolting me back to life after my micro stroke; my lungs spasm and I choke on my own saliva. I start coughing violently, still staring at the wet goddess… _Nope! Take it back! TAKE IT BACK YOU FUCKING PERVERT!  
_

_She’s a kid!_

_No...she’s 18! - Shut up Brain!_

Lily jumps from where she was sitting, to clap my back, “Are you okay?”

_This is so embarrassing!_

“Yes!” I rasp, “Thank you…” Junior starts fussing, I think I woke him up with my fit of coughing. “I’m sorry. Don’t worry about me.” I cough some more… _an early grave would be nice right about now!_

“Are you sure?” Annie asks, coming up to me as well, with Junior on her hip, “You look very flushed, Peeta. Maybe you should sit under the awning and cool off for a beat.”

Junior’s glaring at me, as if he knows… _Sorry, Bud, my bad!_

“Annie’s right,” Says Lily, handing me something, “here, put some sunblock on. It's spf 50, which works okay with your complexion, but you have to reapply at least once every couple of hours. Light skin people like us don’t tan, we burn, and fast!” She kinda, _chides_?

 _Yeah…I already knew about sunburns, and believe me…_ “I swear, I’m okay!”... _this has nothing to do with the sun!_

I shut my eyes after they sweep back up to Katniss. _I have to stop staring at her somehow._

My mood towards the girl sours, as if she’s at fault for looking so fucking delectable. Then again, _she_ went out of her way to buy a fucking orange suit, and on top of that, had the gall to remind me, _orange is my favorite color!_

“Peeta, I swear to God…you better not be having some bullcrap panic attack right now!” Finnick’s voice— basically on top of me— feels like a bucket of icy water to the system.

Annie comes to my defense, “Finnick Odair! You leave Peeta alone! If he doesn’t wanna swim—“

I grind my teeth, “I‘m fine!” I look up at them. I don’t like the way Finn is squinting down at me, suspicious and keen. I stammer too fast, “I just…I— I’m not scared!”

“Bud, Finnick’s just kidding ‘round.” Hunter offers, soothingly, deepening my shame. “You don’t have to get in if you don’t wanna, but I bet my Catkin here can tell you, that lake ain’t that deep. Right sweetie?” Fuck, the man is just trying to help me, without knowing my treacherous body was just reacting to his _18 year old_ daughter _…_

_Aaaargh! Can I please stop looking. At. The Girl?!_

That’s it! _I’m chopping off my dick as soon as I get home!_

Okay…that was a bit extreme. _I won’t mutilate myself, but…I’m gonna put a bag of ice on my sack as punishment for sure!_

“Oh, the water is perfect!” Says the object of my torture, so sweet and soothing.

I feel like dirty old man...

Lily pipes in, “I still think you should put on some sunscreen.” She places the bottle in my clammy hands, again. “Your face is two shades away from lobster, Peeta.”

I nod, resigned to my fate of burning in hell. Might as well put the stupid lotion on to keep from sizzling too fast before Satan gets his chance to poke me with his pitchfork.

“I wished I had Hunter’s skin,” Lily sighs, “he gets this deep tan. Like Katniss’ flawless skin, golden and luminous. Just look at her...isn’t her skin perfect?”

_Dear Lord in Heaven…strike me!_

_Now!_

_Pleaseeeee!_

I’m coughing again.

_Don't ask me to look at your daughter, woman! I’m this close to gouging my eyes out, because I keep looking at her! You asking me to look at her, again, is like dangling a steak in front of a starving hygena!  
_

_You just_ don’t do it, _or your hand would get mauled!_

Finnick’s on me, rubbing my back like he’s sanding a plank of wood. “Please, for the love of chocolate chip cookies, tell me you’re just afraid of the water right now!”

There’s a hint of warning in his voice, but Finnick is my best friend in the whole wide world, I’m not about to lie to him.

“It ain’t the water I’m afraid of!” I grit between clenched teeth.

We stare at each other for just a fraction of a second, and there’s that look in his eyes, the one that makes him appear ancient and all knowledgeable.

“Then what?” He asks leaning back. He’s got me pinned for a moment, and I know he will extract an answer at some point. For now, he will spare me. “You think Nessy will come get you?”

_It’s on!_

“This ain’t Scotland, you idiot!”

“That’ll be impressive though! Can you imagine that guy living here, in our backyard?” Finnick moves his hands around like he’s casting a spell.

I breathe deeply, shuttering my eyes for clarity. This is an old discussion, well tried and visited, to the point of ‘mootness’.

_It’s exactly what I need!_

“Nessy, isn’t real,” _Thank you, Finnick! I could kiss you!_

As if on cue, Finnick gasps, then cups his hands on Junior’s ears. “Don’t you dare! What’s next? Are you gonna let it slip that Santa’s Elves aren’t real in front of my baby? Are you going to tell him Santa buys all his toys in bulk, ‘online’?” He makes the word sound obscene. “What kind of monster are you, killing the magic out of a toddler’s world?!”

We stare at each other. I’m not sure if he’s still playing along to give me a reprieve, or if he’s serious; I mean, these ARE Finnick’s actual harebrained ideas…

A choked up giggle and some sneggering breaks in the background, I think I hear Primrose call from the water if anyone's coming to swim?

Finnick arches an eyebrow, expectantly, and that’s all I need to keep it up.

I rub my face, harshly.

“You’re an idiot!” I tell him…with lots of gratitud.

I shuffle the opposite way, and gingerly climb off the boat, otherwise, I’ll be tempted to look at Katniss in her swimsuit again. _To hell with my apprehension about how deep this lake is!_

Katniss may look like a woman, but she’s only _18_. My friend’s _18 year old daughter!_ I rather drown, than indulge in these problematic, and seriously worrisome urges.

“You’re welcome!” Finnick yells, looking at me from the top as I fling myself in the lake. He steps back and says something else, but I don’t hear it.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Peeta!” Prim smiles, “I was starting to believe nobody else was coming,”

“Uh, no…your folks are getting ready to jump in,”

“Good!” She smiles again, and not a moment later, Hunter joins us, followed by Lily and Annie.

Annie waves at us, and then starts swimming in wide circles around the pontoon, looking like pro.

“Where’s Katniss?” Prim asks.

_Stop listening in so eagerly, you creep!_

“Mr. Finnick pulled the box of cheesy bites out of Mr. Peeta’s bag…sorry,” Lily says wincing at me.

I wave her off, “Those are for eating,”

Prim chuckles, “So she won’t be coming back any time soon,” her parents smile.

“You’re stuck with us, Duckling. Catkin will be busy stuffing her face with Finnick for a while.”

They all share a laugh, and all I want to do is sink to bottom of the lake.

* * *

The inevitable conversation with Finn, doesn’t come until we return to the dock, and everyone disembarks.

I’m already walking up to the Odair’s house, when Finnick catches up to me.

He leans close, saying quietly, “Come to the man cave with me,” it’s not a request.

I nod, swinging my bag with the empty containers from my snacks. “‘Kay.”

We all come to the driveway to see the Everdeens off. While everyone is waving their goodbyes at each other, I toss my stuff in my trunk and shuffle back a few feet. 

Junior is asleep in his mother’s arms again, so Finnick kisses them both on their cheeks, and tells Annie to go ahead inside the house, and relax for a bit while he hang out in his Man Cave.  
  
I watch with mild envy. 

I didn’t have the most loving family growing up. My father loved me, yes, but he was the only baker working the shop when I was a little boy, so he was gone most of the day, and when he was home, he was exhausted from being on his feet all day, so our time together was always short. My mother was home all the time, but she wasn’t warm and caring; she’d get annoyed with us boys real quick and yell and throw things across the rooms when she lost her temper; the only thing she was generous with, were her slaps and criticism. 

I vowed to give my children a better childhood than mine: work less hours and not put all the burden of rising the kids on my wife alone. But at 36, I don’t even have a girlfriend!

I figured I’d be married with at least one baby by now, instead, I’m freaking out over a stupid orange tankini, which I have no business thinking about... _the sooner I can put a stop to this nonesense the better!_

I follow Finnick around the side of the house, to the shed in the backyard. 

I haven’t crossed the door, when Finnick pounds on me, “What’s going on with you?” He glares.

I sigh.

“Honestly…I’m not sure.” I slump into one of the raggedy chairs in the room, and close my eyes. “I think I may be having a mid life crisis or some shit.”

“What kind of crisis?” I hear stuff moving around but don’t look up. Then I hear the unmistakable sound of unscrewing a bottle top.

I sit straighter when I feel the poke of something cold against my arm.

Finnick offers me a mug; booze splotches up when I take it.

We take a pull of our drinks, and I let it burn all the way down to my esophagus before I talk. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose, but I can’t stop it either.” I make a face.

“Should I be worried about…” he hesitates, studying me.

I shake my head, and take another generous gulp. I look at Finnick, determined. “I’m gonna let Clove and Dells fix me up with one of their friends. I think it’s time to rejoin the dating scene.”

Finnick nods absently, “Good idea.”

We stay silent for a moment, drinking, then Finnick says, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

I laugh mirthlessly. “Stupider than marrying Cashmere? I don’t think I can fall any lower than that.”

Cashmere took me by storm and left me out to dry; nearly wiped my bank accounts clean, all because I’m a sucker for the helpless woman type. As it turns out, my ex-wife dearest willingly and knowingly exagereted her issues to wrap me tightly around her pinky, and then showed her true colors when I couldn’t agree with all her demands.

“No, marrying Cashmere wasn’t stupid. She tricked you, and that’s on her, but whatever the hell is going on with you right now, is your responsibility, and yours alone.”

True, but I’m too pissed off to be reasonable, “And what exactly are you insinuating I can be doing wrong?”

Finnick drinks from his own mug, “Teens getting hurt by someone they supposed to trust is very damaging—“

“I’m not a fucking predator!” I smack a Peter Griffin bust Finn has on the table next to my chair. The thing goes out flying, and thuds loudly against the wall. “Fuuuuck!” I scream, covering my face with both hands, and start rocking, distraught. “I’m sorry,” I gasp, looking up at Finn. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean—“

Finnick halts me with his hand. He shakes his head, and goes to pick up his stupid statue from the floor. It miraculously survived the hit.

“Don’t destroy my shit, man...”

“I’m sorry, Finnick. I’m an idiot. I just…I’m sorry,”

Finn sits back, and places the bust on his knee holding it down with his hand on top of Peter’s head. “No...I’m sorry. For comparing you with my aggressor. I’m sorry for implying you could do something as heinous as what happened to me. That wasn’t fair. I just get worried. You know me, I can’t stand the thought of anyone going through the same hell I went through growing up, and I get overzealous sometimes. I know you’d never do anything to hurt anyone. So, let’s start over,” he puts the figure by his foot, “Let’s start over...What’s been going on?”

I deflate, feeling miserable, “I’m not used to Miss K looking so grown. She caught me off guard today, that's all. I’m not going after her. She’s Hunter’s kid! There are women my age available, which I’m gonna pursue.” I feel weary and tired. I sigh, “I’m sorry for almost smashing your toy. My mother’s genes run deeper than I’d like to admit.” Not a smile crosses our faces.

Finnick shrugs, picking up his little statue and giving it an appreciative nod, “The thing is sturdier than it looks. I may write Etsy a letter, praising them for their unsuspecting great quality. I’m putting Peter in the pontoon, my new lucky charm!” He smiles pleasantly, like our conversation a few seconds ago wasn’t as dark and heavy as fear itself, and we didn’t just bared our souls, raw, to one another. “Who would’ve thunk, a trinket found in Etsy would be so superiorly crafted?! By the way, don’t let it slip in front of Junior, but Santa _totally_ buys his shit in bulk online!” 

And just like that, everything was forgiven and life kept on going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some mixed reviews on the humorous feel of Peeta’s internal monologue in the first chapter, and I wanted to leave a little note here: I’m still trying to navigate his mind, I’m still exploring his voice. Now, on the first chapter he got the shock of his life with Katniss, and was completely out of sorts by it, and in this chapter he’s being confronted by a worrisome existential crisis. 
> 
> Also, this chapter touches on Finnick and Annie’s traumas separately (things K doesn’t know about) and that too colors the mood for everyone. We will explore more on Finnick, and I will let you know if it’ll get more in-depth than it was in this chapter to avoid any triggering.
> 
> Finnick is aware something is going on with Peeta, but doesn’t necessarily knows of Katniss’ feelings, and as some of you have guessed, Finnick will have an important part in helping Peeta figuring himself out. 
> 
> Peter Griffin is the main character from the animated series Family Guy. The only busts of him I found on the internet, we’re 3D printed, but since this is my story, I made the bust from some other material, possibly clay? I’m not sure. The part with the bust, was a blatant call-back to canon, in case you didn’t made the connection 🤣 I just had Peeta lash out on a statue instead of a lamp.
> 
> In another notes: I will take a few days to come back to updating Sunsets, because I’m going to be writing stories for Seasons of Everlark @tumblr, and Season of Hope Fic Exchange here on AO3, those will most likely be one shots to be posted around Christmas time, but that means I will have to stop working on this and SotG for a few weeks. Sorry for the inconvenience, look for my other works if you can spare the time! 
> 
> Have a great Thanksgiving!!!


	3. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter corresponds to Chapters **#9: D12** and **#10: License and Registration** of _Sunsets in the Grass_.
> 
>  **Warning:** There will be much language, sexual talk and Peeta will engage in semi graphic adult situations with a date. Anxiety and angst.

Katniss is drunk and being a brat.

My heart keeps racing and stopping with every word falling from her mouth, and I nearly crashed a second ago...I snap at her about her inappropriate behavior and topic of conversation.

She’s not helping my blood pressure.

Today we got a scare with that jerk circling around her like a vulture. I swear I went blind with rage when I saw the guy’s dirty talons sinking into the creamy, smooth flesh of Katniss’ thigh, like she was a piece of carrion for him to munch on. I’m not sure how I didn’t kill him with my bare hands honestly; I guess it was good Haymitch was there to keep things from escalating into murder...

I shudder, thinking of what could’ve happened to her if it wasn’t for Haymitch.

We were lucky Katniss chose D12 for her ill conceived revenge drinking excursion and not some disreputable hole in the wall bar without a caring soul to protect her. It was thanks to Haymitch’s watching-eye that we knew she needed help coming home before something truly bad happened.

Either way, now that I’m parked in the Everdeen’s driveway, listening to the girl’s outrageous jabbering, I can’t help but wished I was elsewhere...perhaps at that date with Delly’s friend, Bonnie, I had to cut short abruptly to get Katniss out of D12 before she did something she’d truly regret in the future…I wasn’t exactly _enjoying_ the date, but the woman’s not-so-subtle innuendos didn’t make me wanna cover my ears and chop off my dick the way listening to Miss K does. 

I ask Katniss not talk about sex anymore as gently as I can on the verge of an arritmia, but she then crosses a line I can’t condone one little bit.

“Am I gonna get in trouble if I keep doing it?” She bats her lashes, smirking drunkenly; her cheeks flushed with alcohol and her nose a little runny. “You gonna take me inside and teach me a lesson for being naughty? Maybe bend me over your knee to give me a little spanking? My folks aren’t home, you know, and since you been trynna act like my father...maybe I’ll start calling you _Daddy_ too—“

_That’s too much!_

“What the fucking hell?!” I’m offended and angry and to make matters worse, my fucking cock is ramrod hard. “You can’t say shit like that! Not to me, not to _anyone_! Ever!”

Without thinking, I let my frustration out by punching the steering wheel. _Fucking hell!_

Katniss yips, curling into herself as far away from me as the cabin allows.

_Fuck!_

Her lower lip quivers, her pretty face scrunches up, tears well in her sweet, scared, gray eyes. She’s terrified!

“No, don’t cry! I’m sorry!” My hands tremble, wanting to pull her shivering form to my chest, but I don’t do it. I _can’t_ do it. It’ll be so inappropriate to touch her after all that’s transpired so far, but _f_ _uck_!

She starts crying in earnest, hiccuping and heaving watery breaths.

_No, no, no! Fuck propriety, she needs me!_

“Please, Katniss!” _Goddamn seat belt!_ “Please don’t cry, sweetie...I didn’t mean to yell and cuss. _Please!_ I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you—“

“You. Don’t. Think. I’m. _Sexy_!”

Her voice comes out small and pitiful, but her words floor me.

“What!?” The stupid seat belt finally gives, but my ass is frozen to the seat. I couldn’t have possibly heard that right… _right?_

“Men, are s-s’posed to, like that k-kind of r-rubbish! D-daddy k-kink and s-s-spanking young g-girls! I’ve seen p-porn, P-Peeta...l-lots of it! W-with Bob!”

 _What in the fucking world is going on?! She really can’t be serious about any of this, is she?!_ I can’t possibly think of her as anything but a KID! _And who_ “...the fuck is Bob?!”

“Bob is my v-vibrator.” She whispers, making me snap my head in her direction.

 _Argh..._ _Did I say that aloud?_

I sigh in defeat. “Too much information, sweetheart…” I tell her, covering my face to hide from this hellish conversation.

A _Vibrator?! She’s a baby! What does she need that for?!_

As if listening to my internal rumination, she says, “Jo g-gave it to me. As an early b-birthday p-present. Since G-Gale was away at base, and ‘ccording to her, all g-girls d-deserve g-good dick! My v-very own b-battery, operated, b-boyfriend…B.O.B!”

Of course! Fucking. Gale. Hawthorne, is the reason.

“That Johanna Mason seems to be full of _great_ ideas!” I grit my teeth and stare at nothing.

I should be telling Katniss that ‘ _no, men shouldn’t wanna spank young girls_ _like they do in porn’._ Explain to her that people enjoy BDSM— which is good and well— in a safer environment, with parameters and mutual respect, which isn’t reflected in pornography at all...instead, my brain is barely hanging on to sanity, after being regaled with the story of BOB the dildo.

“Are you been ‘ _scarstic_ ’? I’m not sure if you are…I think you are. I can’t tell for sure.” She kinda glares.

I’m annoyed with myself for thinking she looks adorable right now. At least she’s stopped crying, but her face is all puffy and splotchy. 

“I’m not being sarcastic...but I bet tonight was her idea too,” I can’t hold her gaze too long.

My beef isn’t with Johanna either, but I can’t help myself right now. 

“Oh…Not really.” She sounds sheepish. “By the way, could I have back that license in your breast pocket? Jo d-doesn’t know I have it, and she’s p-prolly gonna be mighty p-pissed if _you_ give it to her instead of _m-me_.”

_Is she serious?!_

“What do you mean ‘Jo doesn’t know you have her license’?” I ask her slowly, staring at her finally.

She turns scarlet red, and twirls her braid around her finger, looking her age for once. “You see…I asked Jo if we could have a little party of our own. She was s’pposed to spend the night, and bring over a wine cooler. We were gonna celebrate Gale’s wedding by trash talking ’bout him while sipping cheap wine. But, Jo’s grandma called and told her she tripped and fell in the parking lot at ALDI. Normally Ms. Mason can handle herself, but she scraped her face and hands pretty badly on the asphalt, and was at the hospital and stuff. The doctors wouldn’t let her go home tonight, so Johanna dropped everything, and went taking care of her granny,” She blinks nervously, eyes fleeting away, mouth working uneasily, biting the inside of her cheek.

“When I realized I was gonna be home alone, today, on Gale’s wedding day, I felt… _bereft_. I mean, my ex was getting married to the woman he impregnated while he was supposed to be courting me, and instead of staying and supporting me, my family went to some bogus softball game! I understand it was Prim’s first overnight trip, and all, but Mrs Seeder was taking Rue, she would’ve watched over her daughter’s best friend no problem! Then, my best friend bailed on me, suddenly! So, I swiped Jo’s license, and I may have drunk two of Mama’s Straw-ber-ritas to get the ball rolling…What was I supposed to do?”

Suddenly, giving her fanny a well deserved switching doesn’t sound as taboo and out of the question anymore. 

“Um…not steal your friend’s driver’s license and get trashed at a local bar!”

“You’re girl shaming me again!” She bleats.

“I am not _girl shaming_ you,” I retort in aggravation, “Whatever that means! I’m just stating the fact that you did something selfish and irresponsible! You stole somebody’s documentation and went to a bar, and lied about your age. You could’ve gotten Johanna and Haymitch in a lot of trouble, Katniss. And especially in Johanna’s case, you owe her a huge apology for betraying her trust and friendship.”

I feel bad telling her off; she’s had a rough evening, but I’m only human, and hearing about BOB and fooling around with Gale Hawthorne, having all those unwanted images of Katniss’ sexuality hammered into my weaken brain, and to top that, hearing of all of her bad choices tonight, while reminding myself over and over that this isn’t her fault, not entirely— She’s young, unsupervised, and hurt, and alcohol has loosened her tongue and her filter has completely shut to hell...she really doesn’t mean any of the stuff she’s said— but all of it has left me raw, in an awfully bad mood and tired beyond reason.

I’m fighting tooth and nail to convince myself Katniss is still the girl with the pigtails I remember from years ago, but that image is becoming blurrier and blurrier with every passing day, and I feel… _unclean_. Disgusting. Aberrant. Like _I’m_ the predator here somehow. 

_Jesus!_

I understand she’s a jilted, young woman, pissed off and hurting, who probably has no idea how to channel all her emotions in a less destructive way, but one can only endure so much of her explicit tales and remain unaffected.

Headlights pierce the dark behind us.

“Thank fucking heaven!” I grunt, flinging myself out of the truck to meet up with Finnick and his family, grumbling to myself how I deserve a fucking medal of valor, for subduing my dick into inactivity under this psychological torture.

There’s no other recourse…Sexually active or not, Katniss is my friend’s little girl, and thus, untouchable.

And even if she was just a random chick flirting with me, I would never touch her.

First, I don’t do casual hookups or one-nighters. Second, taking advantage of an inebriated teenager is just gross and wrong. Unfortunately, we live in a sick, sick world, where most men think differently, and vulnerable girls suffer for it…it matters not if a girl spreads her legs herself to a man, if she’s drunk, _don’t touch her!_

Talking about willing women…once Finnick and Annie have settled in with Junior and Katniss, I debate going back home and calling Bonnie to see if she’s up for a nightcap.

I quickly shut down the thought. I know exactly why I want to see Bonnie right now, and is not ‘cause I miss her.

I grunt to myself and kick gravel like an aggravated toddler.

I’m not as subtle as I should be while rearranging my dick to the side in my trousers; I’m just glad my unwelcome boner is almost completely gone finally. I should be okay for a few hours, plus a booty call wouldn’t be fair to Bonnie... 

She’s a nice lady, intelligent, and at 7 years my junior, the youngest woman I’ve dated in relation to my own age. I don’t blame our age gap for the things that make me slightly uncomfortable going out with her, though...for example, she offered to go down on me on our very first date. I’m no prude, but sex with a virtual stranger on a first date just doesn’t sit well with me. And that one’s on me.

Casual sex makes me incredibly anxious and suspicious. The most casual I’ve ever gone was in a friends-with-benefits arrangement I had with this terrific girl, named Portia while I lived in France. Things with Portia didn’t progress into a committed relationship because she wouldn’t allow it despite my numerous attempts at more. 

The second thing I have a hard time with Bonnie, is how much into her social media she is; don’t get me wrong, I'm no stranger to Facebook and Instagram, the bakery has a strong presence on social media to stay competitive in today’s standards, but all Bonnie talks about is how she wants to be an influencer, but she hasn’t ‘clicked’ with the right sponsors yet. Call me old fashioned, but as an individual, I just don't want a million strangers looking at my private shit all day long; if it wasn’t for the bakery, I wouldn’t even have a personal account at all!

Lastly, and this is a very minor issue, but I can’t stand the way it feels like all her makeup rubs onto my face when I kiss her. It’s like my lips and cheeks get caked on the stuff and I can taste it for hours after. I’m sure I’d feel differently if I was in love with Bonnie, but we’ve only been on two and a half dates together so far, and I know next to nothing about the woman, which is sad, since she’s almost an Instagram celebrity.   
  


Either way... tonight is still going, and I can’t leave this house until I’ve made sure Katniss isn’t gonna run to another bar and get into more trouble.

* * *

Sleeping on the Everdeens’ couch was hard on my back; a thousand thoughts plagued my mind and kept me from finding sleep, despite being tired to the bone.

I tell myself that’s the reason I’m about to hightail it out of here, as soon as I’ve inhaled a small stack of Finnick’s famous pancakes and a cup of Gray Earl, and not the fact that I don’t think I can face Katniss this morning, because I’m scared I might be developing a crush on her. 

In fact, the only reason I haven’t left yet, is because I don’t want to appear suspicious or guilty to Hunter and Lilly, which I’m probably failing at anyway, since I haven’t been able to make eye contact with either of them since they arrived, an hour or so ago. 

Finn knows something’s up with me, but he will wait until we get together, most likely in his man cave, and I’ll just spill every last bit of shameful thoughts I’m trying to shove into the darkest recesses of my mind.

Thank heavens Lilly hasn’t stopped yapping about Prim’s soccer league and how other parents aren’t supporting the sport and the kids enough. It’s given me a chance to keep my eyes fixed on my plate, nodding here and there, shoving pancakes into my mouth because I really have nothing to comment; the problem is, that I have all the time in the world to worry about my friends finding out about the inappropriate interactions I had with their 19 year old daughter last night...

I guess I’m being overly dramatic, since all we did was have a platonic conversation... _after the highly sexualized one, ugh!_

Yeah…I feel like a fucking fool thinking about everything that went on last night. And then to think that I could possibly have a crush on such a young woman! But after having that talk with Katniss when I helped her back into bed after her visit to the toilet last night, when she told me about Jessica Biel’s (of all people!) wedding dress, and the marzipan house, plus all the babies she dreamed of having with me when she was younger…well, it kinda made me feel all gooey and warm inside, and for a hazy second, I really, truly considered her fantasy and my stupid ass kinda regressed on me.

I felt as giddy as teenager again. It was so stupid, how much I loved her little confessions, and how disappointed I felt when I realized there’s no way she still feels the same way anymore...not after growing up and having her first romantic experiences with that idiot, Hawthorne, anyway. 

My guts twist; I almost groan. 

_It’s the stupid pink dress’ fault!_ It’s my idiotic childhood crush on Jessica Biel! 

The story was just too perfect, too detailed in a way that appeals to me, I keep wondering if she was somehow told to say those things to me, set me up for some big, cruel joke, because how was she to know of my crush on Jessica? Or that I actually bought a freaking magazine with pictures of her in that pink dress? Or that the thing I want most in my sad, miserable life is to have children, lots of them?

But that last part I’ve never shared with anyone, not even Cashmere while we were married…then _how_? How did Katniss simply gave voice to my deepest secret dreams without being coached?

“Mmm! Finnick, these pancakes are phenomenal! So fluffy and light! How did you manage to keep them from collapsing? I swear mine always turn out misshapen and rubbery.” Lilly says with gusto, drizzling syrup indiscriminately all over her plate: eggs, bacon, pancakes, everything is covered in the stuff.

“ _Pah-cake!_ ” Junior squeals, banging a grody tiny fist full of egg on top of his demolished pancake. Food bits fly everywhere, while Annie tries to wipe away the mess with a damp rag.

Finnick smiles from the hot griddle, while flipping a pancake over. “It’s all on how you add the eggs to the mixture! I’ll show you next time I make you breakfast!” He turns to his task once again.

Lilly mumbles, “I don’t usually eat so many meats for breakfast either, but—“

“It’s hangover food, Lilly!” Hunter practically snaps. It’s the first he’s said in almost fifteen minutes, so everyone just stops for a second, before resuming our different actions.

Lilly rolls her eyes, cutting into a piece of sausage. “So, how was our _wild_ child last night?” She asks, pursing her lips.

“She’s not wild. She was distraught, and when we brought her home, she was quiet and grateful.” Annie says firmly. 

I arch my eyebrows and sneak a glance at Finnick, surprised at Annie’s steady voice and tone. 

My best friend’s face is stony while dropping green tomato slices into a batter to fry.

It’s obvious they won’t give away the worst of last night; they won’t mention Katniss’ puffy, red rimmed eyes, or her rats’ nest hair, or how she was missing a flip flop that Finnick had to go fish out from under a table at D12, or that a stranger had his hands on her when I found her…I’m sure Haymitch will let it slip about the guy and the altercation after, but for now, what we tell Hunter and Lilly, won’t be shameful or condemning.

“Peeta, you were the one who picked her up,” Hunter says, as if asking me if Annie’s account is reliable, “Did Catkin do, or said anything… _untoward_?”

I almost choke on a piece of egg. I take a sip of my tea, then look up, “She cried a lot. She may have said some stuff, like any jilted woman would after learning of a big betrayal.”

”She said _stuff_? What kind of stuff?” Hunter presses.

 _Fuck my life!_ I glare at Hunter, and bend the truth just a little, “She said mean spirited things about Gale, I rather not repeat. I doubt she’ll remember any of it, anyway.” 

I force myself to make eye contact for more than a few seconds. I can swallow the unpleasant feelings in my gut and meet Hunter’s gaze, just to convey my words as truthfully as possible... I mean, she did cry a lot, and she did a good deal of trash talking Gale, so I’m not lying. Katniss already was failed by the ones she’s supposed to trust, she doesn’t need me to tattle on her too.

Lilly shakes her head, “Mhmm! There’s no better truth serum than hooch.”

“Well, we are very disappointed in her behavior.” Says Hunter with a heavy, sad, sigh. 

A groan accompanied by a thud comes from down the hallway, where the bedrooms are.

“I think I hear her now.” Lilly announces, “Better go check on her. Lord knows it’s about time we have a serious conversation with that girl!”

As soon as Lilly stands to go get Katniss, Annie throws a hand out, grabbing Lilly’s forearm. I’ve never seen her green eyes so focused and clear.

“Don’t be harsh on her. She really was sorry, and she learned her lesson.”

Lilly, nods. “Thank you for watching over her last night.” She offers quietly, and then goes, as soon as Annie retrieves her hand.

Hunter is staring at me, as if he expects I will say something else. Suddenly, the taste of the pancakes turn to ash in my mouth.

I push the plate away from me, “I gotta get going.”

I can’t stand to stay one more second in here, like a coward. I truly fear having to see Katniss. 

“Aren’t you off today?” Finnick asks, genuinely surprised.

I give him a meaningful glare, and as usual, he reads a whole conversation in that one glance.

“Never mind. See you later…or, whenever,” he says, quirking an eyebrow, “say hi to date number 3…”

Feels like I’m the one in trouble, waiting for the other shoe to drop. _Too anxious for this shit!_ but if Finnick wants to talk about Bonnie, I guess I should go with it.

”Will do. At least Bonnie lasted longer than the the other two blind dates my sisters set me up on,” I roll my eyes. 

I wonder if calling Bonnie at all is smart right now, with my keyed up state of mind and all. 

A door opens down the hall, and the bottom of my stomach falls. I pretty much jump out of my seat.

“I’ll give you a call…after Bonnie.”

“Good luck,” Finn says, his usual mischief missing entirely, and I know he’s unconvinced anything will come of this date either, but he might be wrong for once.

* * *

After everything that’s gone on in the last 48 hours, I’ve finally reached rock bottom on the stupidity chart.

Bonnie and I are parked in Slag Heap road, overlooking Historical Downtown Panem, which back in the day was synonymous with making out and other things amongst teenagers; in a most stunning fail of common sense, I drove here with my date, and of course she accurately deduced I didn’t bring us here for the pretty view. 

Now, the reason I’m throughly regretting my lapse in judgment right now, isn’t because my date was offended or put out about my childish antics, but because she’s so completely enthusiastic about it, that even before I shut off my car’s ignition, she had unbuckled herself out of her seat, and dove right at my crotch like a fiend.

At first I was a little embarrassed at how unresponsive my dick was to her attack. The woman dug my half flaccid prick out of my pants without undoing my belt or the button of my trousers so dexterously, the first thing that pinged in my head was _How many times has she done this before?_ then, I felt bad for judging her and let my head fall to the headrest with a thud while she licked and slurped below my belt line.

I’m not as eager to see what she’s doing as I should. On the contrary, I’m trying to think sexy thoughts so I don’t embarrassed myself any further, but then, all that comes to mind is that stupid pink dress, contrasting beautifully against tanned, soft olive skin instead of Jessica Biel’s peaches and cream dermis.

I force myself to stop thinking about that image, bash it away with a growl, and then I yank Bonnie off of me, and into her own seat. 

Her brown eyes are confused for a split second, before I hike my hand up her thigh and under her skirt. My date smiles indulgently, a knowing twinkle in her eye, and spreads her legs as far as she can go in the reduce space of my Camry’s passenger seat. 

That’s as well. At this point, all I want is to get her off, so I can driver her back home and then figure out some excuse so we don’t have to fuck tonight.   
  
I’ll end up calling her up again, because tonight is just not fair to her, and then I’ll wine her, dine her, take her back wherever she wants to go, and give her a passionate night she’d appreciate when we inevitably part ways, because I can honestly say, I don’t see any future here, and Bonnie deserves way better than this. She deserves way better than _me.  
_

As it turns out, my date is a firm believer on returning favors, and she won’t let me brush off the fact that I didn’t get an orgasm. 

The male body is a wonder. Too stupid and easily coaxed with enough stimuli to come undone.

I manage not to think of certain _forbidden apple_ during my tryst, which in my book is a well deserved victory! I start to relax, thinking it’s a step in the right direction...

Bonnie is all smiles and flushed cheeks when I drop her off at her house, and I don’t even have to give a reason for not coming in, since clearly the both of us had a successful release and nothing else is necessary for now. Apparently, she’s not _the cuddling type_ , as per her own words, which is okay by me. 

We make plans to meet up next weekend; I know she’d be expecting more, and I have the rest of the week to psych myself up for it. I tell myself it’s the right thing to do, date a woman closer to my age who’s fun and confident, and morally permitted. 

My relief is palpable.

My relief is also short lived. 

As I ready myself for bed, my phone pings with a text message and thinking it might be Bonnie with a good night wish, I pick up my phone smiling from ear to ear, just to find myself staring at some messages from Katniss.

> **Sunday, 11:06 p.m.**
> 
> **Katniss:** “Hi, Peeta! I know is late, and u’ll prolly in bed already ‘cause baker’s hrs n all that jazz, but... I just wanted 2 say thank u again, 4 last night. And 4 today.”  
>   
>   
> 
> 
> **Katniss:** “I hope the fruit is still good. Sorry about the cornucopia from heck falling apart. That was so lame, 😂 But hey, it’s healthy, right?!”
> 
> **Katniss:** “Any-who... thanks! Also... hate saying told u so, but I totally warned u u were making a big mistake giving me carte blanche 2 txt you when I wanted n 4 whatever I wanted.
> 
> **Katniss:** “U stuck with me now! Imma be like a bad stain on ur rug😎, always there 2 haunt u! lol.”
> 
> **Katniss:** “I’m kidding thou.”
> 
> **Katniss:** “Sweet dreams, Peeta. Talking 2 U means the 🌎 2 me. Thanks!” 

I sigh. 

I’m not sure which text bubble I’m more weary of: ‘ _the bad stain on my rug there to haunt me’_ , or ‘ _talking to me means the world to her’._

Either way, I’m fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everybody... if we can call it that. 
> 
> Anyway, my year begun with a funeral of two family friends, both elderly and with health issues not at all related to Covid, thank the Lord. Then I always get a bout of nostalgia the first week of January because it’s my dad’s birthday, but my dad passed away 10 years ago, so I had a deep low for almost a week where I didn’t write or read fanfiction. But I’m back to work, and feeling perkier. I will probably still be a bit slow, since January is a very busy month for my family, so this is a before hand apology and a heads up wrapped in one: expect slow updates for the next few weeks, I’m working as fast and often as I can.
> 
> Now, on to the actual chapter, Peeta got his first honest to God scare about his feelings for Katniss. He’s still very much in denial and is not making very good choices. Don’t be mad at me. Or be mad, whatever you need. I know Peeta was a dirty weasel with Bonnie here, but since this is the first and only chapter we’ll see her, I’ll let you know that she’s not at all heartbroken about calling it quits with P. She had her fun, found some sponsors, as it’s now a happy influencer in Twitter and Instagram... don’t ask me her profile handler because I never got that far into the planing. Rest assured she’s happy and living her fullest life!
> 
> Peeta had a crush on Jessica Biel when he was young. He used to watch 7th Heaven when he was a pre-teen because it was one of the few show his mom allowed🤪 so... the pink wedding dress is what trips him this time, and makes him notice Katniss... he’s not “in love” yet, only crushing, but we are heading that way! Yay! 
> 
> Jessica Biel is an American actress, married to American singer Justin Timberlake. She wore [this](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/83/04/53/83045325d8e5656877e62299a09976ee.jpg) pale pink gown on her wedding to Justin on 2012.
> 
> Keep safe, keep healthy. Let me know how am I doing so far.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment, or say hello on tumblr @Alliswell21 😘


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